Just Kelly and Just Colleen looked at each other, at the crowd surrounding the top of Tank Hill, and back at their virgins. They could only shrug.

Millimeter Peter had pulled out a very large blueprint, and Udder Moron was helpfully standing on one corner to prevent the wind from picking it up, while Gobble My Ass was mentally calculating the time she would be left to chill on the barren rock.

"Can this go any faster?" she groused.

"Do you want John Handcock back safely?" Millimeter Peter barked back at her, and Allahu Aqbark yipped in agreement. After a long pause, she nodded.

Circle Jerk wandered over. "Can I help?"

Muff Daddy handed him a bag of orange food. Hand Pump handed him the jockey box. Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring thrust the habardashery on top of the pile.

"I think the problem started when Ru Ru Rimmin left the cup on that old man's car," Uber Luber advised. "That's when the ... abnormalities started."

"Like you weren't abnormal before," Ru Ru Rimmin retorted.

"Before we jump to conclusions," millimeter Peter held up a hand. "Let's go over the events of the evening. John Handcock fell into an interdimensional rift. Someone must have noticed something."

"He's at the bar, mate. Whaddaya need?" Cuming Mutha dragged Weiner I Am over for assistance.

"Get Resting Slut Face's shirt off. Now what shall we hold this all together with?"

"I've got a bunch of tiny pricks on my ass," Bitch Pimp offered.

"Perfect," millimeter Peter declared, and soon he had assembled his monstrosity. Somehow, glowing LED lights had appeared, possibly from Rent Whore's purse, decorating the frame of a bicycle built for two. The stuffed giraffe made up one frame, while Jizzard made up the other, and Resting Slut Face's shirt padded the seats nicely. The pedals turned slowly. If one looked closely one could see the Gluten-free movement was providing the power.

"If the world's best scientists haven't figured out interdimensional travel, why on earth would the hash be able to manage it?" Do Her Well replied. "Besides, Tricrapylete left some milk out for him, and Ocean Spray set up a distress wail so he knows we're thinking of him."

"I'm sure he's off playing in the fields somewhere," Sir Menage-a-lot added. "He's in a much better place, really."

"That's what my parents said when my dog had to go to that farm," Cirque du So Lame remarked. "Oh.Oh no."